Colliding Worlds
by Fic Fairy
Summary: A Holby City and 24 crossover Jack Bauer thought he could handle anything... Then he met Connie Beauchamp. AUish AngloAmerican madness. Please R&R.
1. Episode 1 5am to 6am Pt1

**THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN 5AM AND 6AM  
EVENTS OCCUR IN REAL TIME**

**The Marriott Downtown  
Los Angeles  
5am**

Connie Beauchamp's day, began, much to her disgust, with a rude awakening from her hotel room telephone. As she opened her eyes and found herself reaching sleepily for the receiver she cursed her husband out loud, already predicting it would be him at the other end of the phone, all bright eyed and bushytailed ready to wish his 'adoring' wife good morning. It had been a regular occurrence since she'd left Washington to take up a temporary posting in Los Angeles a few weeks before, and it was a constant source of amusement / annoyance to her that a man holding a position of such great authority, not to mention national importance be completely incapable of working out the time difference between LA and DC and the effect thereof on his wife's sleep patterns.

"Yes?" She waited for Michael to pick up on the frostiness of her tone, realise what he'd done, mutter the obligatory "Oh fuck it." and then apologise profusely, but neither curse not apology came. "Michael?" she said, irritably due to the interruption to her beauty sleep, "if that's you can we get the usual palaver out of the way so I can go back to sleep?"

"Mrs Beauchamp," A sharp businesslike tone of a voice that clearly didn't belong to Michael quickly stopped her in her tracks, and then quickly dragged her out of her sleepy reverie as he announced himself, "This is Bill Buchanan."

It was a name that she was familiar with even if she didn't know the man himself. Bill Buchanan was the Director of LA's Counter Terrorist Unit, the Government Agency to which she was currently seconded. If he was calling her at 5am it was clearly not for 'welcome to firm' niceties, he clearly meant business.

Suddenly wide-awake, she jumped from the bed, still clutching the phone under her chin as she anticipated that this was a call of duty, and lying around in bed until her alarm went off was no longer going to be an option, "Is there a problem?"

"We need you to come in. There's a situation going down and we need your assistance."

"Can I ask what kind of situation?"

A beat and then, "You'll be fully briefed on your arrival. Please report to Operations. We'll be expecting you." Then a click and he was gone.

---

**CTU Los Angeles  
5.03am**

"She's on her way." Bill announced as he clicked the Situation Room's speakerphone off, "She's currently residing at the Marriott, so I'd assume she'd be 15, 20 minutes maximum."

At his side, Chloe O'Brien, CTU's most respected data analyst snorted, "With respect Sir, you seem to have forgotten the 3 hours required for her to choose an outfit, put on her make up and get ready." Unlike the others present she was familiar with Connie, having had a brief altercation with her by the vending machines shortly after her arrival and it hadn't taken long for her to form an opinion that the new Medical Officer was suffering from visions of grandeur way above those her post allowed for.

Her comments fell by the wayside however, as Jack Bauer, the third and final person in the room spoke, ignoring her comments as if she'd never opened her mouth.

"What do we know about her?"

"She has some very nice shoes." Chloe sniped sarcastically, but got no further before Bill interrupted.

"She's a British born medic, highly regarded in her own field which is," he scanned the notes in front of him, "cardio-thoracic surgery. She moved out here with her husband 18 months ago and has been working in a military hospital just outside Washington on a classified assignment since, until being posted here last month."

Never one to miss a trick, Jack was immediately on his guard, "A classified assignment? Just like that? And that happened how?" He took the notes from Bill and quickly scanned them himself, "She's a hospital doctor Bill, she's not even a US citizen. How did she get a detail like that?"

Bill made to answer but Chloe beat him to it, glad to have a piece of information about their new colleague that might finally pique his interest, the collection of Manalo Blanik's obviously not having done the trick, "Check out the name Jack… Constance Beauchamp, wife of…" she got no further before the penny dropped for Jack and he cut her dead,

"Michael Beauchamp?"

Chloe nodded, "Got it in one. Our new Medical Officer is married to the President's Chief of Staff."

---  
**  
The White House  
Washington DC**

In the last year Michael had rarely regretted his decision to up sticks and move to the States. There was very little reason why he would have done. It is not every day that you receive a phone call asking you to accept the position of Chief of Staff in the White House, and Connie would never ever have forgiven him if he'd said no. As it was, his social climbing wife couldn't believe her luck and if she was happy, he was happy, even if it did mean having to keep a secret or two from her.

Like the fact he'd screwed the President at university.

Well, not so much screwed as dated. For four years.

It was a miracle really that the press hadn't dug it up really, but then it was truth universally acknowledged that that any secret could be buried deep enough as long as you were willing to pay the right price. And he was - anything to keep Connie off of his back, and the cries of 'nepotism' at bay.

So yes, it was a charmed life. An apartment at The White House, and a second very plush home not far from Capitol Hill, status, security and a never ending stream of women to keep his bed warm while Connie was off 'doing her thing', which, he noted, was most of the time. Not that he blamed her, she was so excited – she'd spent years in Holby having to battle for every last penny from the NHS, and now suddenly she had budgets and technology at her disposal that she'd only been able to dream of before, not to mention a very swanky 'Level 6 Government Security Classification' pass that put a smile on her face every time she clipped it onto her Gucci suit. It worked in his favour too. He'd given her power, and power made her both horny and grateful, a fact she demonstrated to him whenever they managed to be in the same city at the same time.

It really had all worked out really rather nicely.

Until today.

Today he'd woken up to news of a terror alert. Now admittedly that was not an infrequent occurrence. In fact, very rarely did he not wake up to some kind of terrorist threat – it kind of went with the territory, but this one was different. This one was, well, serious.

He sighed, flipping through the latest batch of intelligence information he'd received from CTU in LA. It really wasn't looking good at all, and quite frankly, he was feeling out of his depth. Clearly landing a job as a result of your talents in the bedroom was not all it cracked up to be. Which was odd, because it had often worked well for his wife.

He walked towards the Oval Office, knocked on the door and then, when bidden, entered and approached the desk.

"Mrs Logan, I really think you ought to take a look at this."

---

**5.09am**

Connie flew through the lobby of the Marriott and out of the front doors where her car was waiting for her, along with a Valet who had the keys in his hand. Although time was of the essence she afforded him a smile as she did every morning, since he had a very pert behind, and since Michael was 1000's of miles away she never knew when she might need to secure his assistance in servicing far more than just her car.

"Thanks Manuel." She glanced at her watch, noting the time, "6 minutes. Not bad." Although in truth she felt the accolades belonged more to her given that in the time it had taken him to drive her car round from the garage she'd managed to choose an outfit, apply a touch of make up, get ready and get downstairs – no mean feat when all was said and done.

She climbed into the car, "See you tonight."

She turned the key in the ignition, and pulled away, before taking her phone from her pocket, activating the hands free kit and dialing Michael. It was a 10 minute journey to the downtown offices in which CTU was situated, and by the time she arrived she intended to be as fully briefed they were.

--- 

Michael and The President were deep in discussion over the most recent CTU report when his mobile rang, treating them both to a rendition of 'Most Beautiful Girl in the World' by Prince that seemed both grating and rather inappropriate considering their location and the severity of the situation. He removed it from his pocket and looked at her apologetically,

"Ah, it's my wife… I'm sorry, would you mind?"

The President shook her head and then returned to the report as he stepped into the corridor to take the call.

Is that my gorgeous husband? 

His first question, when greeted in such a manner normally, would have been "What the Hell are you after?" but on this particular occasion he was more intrigued by what she was doing up and about, let alone sounding so perky. After several weeks of enraging her temper by completely failing to understand American Time Zones he'd finally thought he'd got it nailed – but apparently not.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" He asked, somewhat puzzled, as he removed a post it note from his pocket that clearly spelt out to him that LA was 3 hours behind DC and therefore she should be.

"I got called into work." She replied, "Do you want to tell me why?"

"Why would I know why?"

At the end of the phone he heard her sigh, a surefire sign that she was getting huffy, which she tended to do whenever she felt he was missing the point, or just being deliberately evasive. Quite often it was the former, but today it was the latter. Clearly there was some link between her being called into work and the documents he'd just been going through with Martha but really, that was hardly the point. It was a bone of contention between them that sometimes these days he had secrets he had to keep from her beyond the name of the bimbo he was screwing at any given moment – that she was used to, it was everything else she didn't like, couldn't cope with and thus tended to huff about.

Well she was going to have to learn to live with it now. Her husband was the closest colleague and confidante of the Leader of the Free World – he was going to have secrets whether she liked it or not.

And she liked it not.

"You would know why Michael," she said in the frosty tone that she reserved for him when he was really pissing her off as opposed to just mildly so, "Because I work for a Government Agency, a Government Agency that answers to the President herself, the said same President that I am in little doubt you're currently sat sharing a morning latte with and discussing the reason I'm being called into work now, are you going to give me the fucking heads up or," she stopped her ranting momentarily as she swore violently and Michael was aware of beeping horns and screeching brakes at the other end of the phone, "do I have to get myself killed first." She added as the screeching stop and calm was restored.

Michael sighed. There was no point in arguing with her when she was like this. Sometimes it was just a hell of a lot easier just to give in.

"We have evidence that terrorists are planning a biological attack somewhere in the US, at some point today. "

On the other end of the phone his wife fell silent and he regretted his bluntness. For all her arrogance and overblown self confidence she displayed he knew she was no more equipped to deal with this than he was.

"What kind of biological attack?" She asked finally, in a tiny voice that he barely recognized as belonging to her.

He sighed, "A virus. The symptoms are like Ebola," He took a deep breath, "but worse." He waited for a response and when one wasn't forthcoming he could easily imagine the picture at the other end of the phone – it took a lot to scare his wife but when it happened the results were always the same: - her fists clenched (no doubt round the steering wheel in this scenario), her face ashen and her bottom lip wobbling as she desperately tried to maintain her composure. His brave little soldier. "Darling," he said gently, "we've got a body infected with the virus, it's on its way to CTU now and we need you to look at it. We need you to find out what this thing is."

"This isn't my area of expertise."

He laughed softly, "Come on baby, EVERYTHING is your area of expertise, at least that's what you've always told me. You'll be ok." Just as he was reassuring her the President opened the door, looked at her watch and then at him questioningly, obviously a reminder that the clock was ticking. "I have to go. I'll talk to you later." He waited until Martha left again and added a very tender, "I love you."

---

"I love you too." Connie mumbled as she pulled into the parking lot of the CTU buildings, but it was too late, Michael was already gone. Still stunned from his revelation, and by what they were expecting her to do she leant against the steering wheel, desperately trying to get her head together.

Biological Attacks?

An Ebola type virus?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She never thought she'd see the day, but at that moment she'd have quite happily traded Capitol Hill and dining with Statesmen for Holby City and the staff canteen.

Still, it was not the time for having nervous breakdowns and getting nostalgic about a place she'd been very glad to see the back of.

She checked her make up in the mirror, clipped on her Level 6 Security Clearance pass and then made her way into the building.

She had work to do.

**05.19am**

---

_Consider that to be your first ad break - I'm working on the theory approximately 3 per 'episode' although may post in full 'episodes' eventually but need encouragement right now!_


	2. Episode 1 5am to 6am Pt2

**05.23am**

"So where is this living breathing example of how to screw your way to the top then?" Chloe asked, again, as she was inclined to do so, snippily, as she reentered the Situation Room with a summary of the latest 'internet chatter' pertaining to the terrorist threat hanging over her arm, "You said twenty minutes Bill."

"And it's been twenty minutes exactly." He pointed out by way of reply, "And she's just cleared security and is on her way." He sighed, "Really Chloe, what is the issue with you two?"

"You'll see." Chloe remarked smugly, only to have her smirk wiped off her face when Jack glared at her, unimpressed by her attitude. "Does it really matter? As far as I'm aware this is a Government Agency facing a biological terrorist threat, we're not in Grade School anymore. Just do the job you're paid to do and keep the hell out of her way, you understand me?" He kept his glare, a glare so hard it had been known to coerce hardened terrorists to crack, on her, awaiting some kind of response, but before she had time to formulate one that wasn't "Screw you Jack", a voice, English in accent and quite obviously amused, came from the doorway,

"It sounded perfectly understandable to me."

Jack turned towards the door and as he did so his gaze fell on the speaker. Dark hair, big deep brown eyes, suited and booted but in a pencil skirt that left nothing about her slender legs to the imagination. She was, there was little doubt, gorgeous and were it not for the small issue of having a terrorist cell in possession of a lethal virus to catch he'd have fucked her right there and then on the situation room table, definitely more than once, and quite possibly in a whole variety of positions.

He'd not felt like this, he thought, since Audrey, or even before that…

Since Kate maybe… or… 

Shit… Nina… or…

He couldn't even bring himself to think it, and yet, looking at her, he couldn't help himself…

Fuck it. Since Terri.

But really, it wasn't the time to be falling into that trap. He pushed all thought of it out of his mind and stepped towards her, extending his hand for her to shake.

"Constance Beauchamp? I'm Jack Bauer. Good to have you on board."

---

"What can I say? It's good to be on board."

She took his hand and shook it firmly, professionally. Her loins were stirring and taking her mind with them but she knew full well that she couldn't allow herself to get distracted. He was a good looking man, incredibly handsome, his T-Shirt clinging to rippling muscles in a way that left her feeling like she wanted to rip it right off but she garnered all the self control she had to stop herself from thinking about it. Now was not the time to be drooling like an over excited schoolgirl.

What was the old saying? You only get one chance to make a first impression.

She strode purposefully past him into the room. She'd got the number of the situation from the small exchange she'd viewed from the door. Bill Buchanan was in charge, technically, in so far rank went, but it had been perfectly clear that this Jack Bauer was really running the show. The issue now was working out where she fitted in, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be under the little IT nerd in the bad blouse.

She glanced at the table in front of her, 3 of the seats around which had obviously recently been occupied – laptop and a cappuccino, bog standard white coffee and a triple espresso. Glancing at the occupants of the room it didn't take much to work out whose was whose. The question was, which seat to take? She moved, at first, towards the cappuccino but as her eyes met Jack's she realized he knew exactly what she was doing and knew instantly that pissing Chloe off wasn't going to be a statement enough.

Without a moment's hesitation she took the seat with the triple espresso.

At first, Jack said nothing, and then he moved very precisely to her, crouched down at her side and spoke to her in a low tone that fell somewhere between incredibly sensual and very, very dangerous, "Ok, you've made your point. You like to go on top. Now get the hell out of my seat."

And, without another word, the controlling and authoritative Mrs. Beauchamp, did precisely as she was told.

---

"Right," he said, still questioning his use of the word 'go' as opposed to 'be', as he settled himself into his now vacant seat, "I suspect you want to know why you're here." It was a rhetorical question and he made to continue before an answer was forthcoming but she didn't give him chance as she calmly shook her head,

"Not particularly. Allow me to tell you." She leant back in her chair, smiling a wry smile, obviously enjoying setting the cat among the pigeons in such a way, "You want me to look at a body contaminated with a lethal virus that if terrorists have their way will wipe out a significant number of our population today." She fixed her gaze on him and smiled again, "Impressed?"

He wasn't so much, since he knew she had contacts, but he wasn't about to tell her that. He'd already shown her who was boss by removing her from his seat, there was no point in trampling her completely – the spirit she showed was far too attractive to risk that.

At his side however Chloe rolled her eyes, "We might be, if your husband wasn't Mrs Logan's Chief of Staff. What was it? Phone sex on the way over to coerce him into telling you?"

Jack saw Bill make to reprimand Chloe for the comment but he quickly shook his head. Not that he particularly appreciated the bitching but he felt Chloe had at least something of a point and besides which, he was intrigued as to what the response was going to be.

Their new arrival didn't disappoint.

"Yeah, something like that. I just didn't fancy walking in here blind," She paused momentarily, meeting his eyes and if he hadn't known better he'd have sworn there wasn't another soul in the room, "I mean would you walk into any new situation unarmed?" She didn't await an answer, just quite rightly taking it as read, "And as for my methods?" She smiled at him, one eyebrow raised, and to his discomfort he felt himself hardening slightly under the cover of the table at the thought of her pretty little mouth putting those 'methods' into practice, "I do whatever it takes. Would you want someone on your team who did anything less?"

---

"And the conference link up with CTU is arranged for 5.30 Pacific Standard Time?" Martha Logan asked Michael as they concluded their discussion.

"Yes, that's correct. In the Communications Room. I'm just heading there now to check everything is in order. Unless," He looked at her questioningly, "there's anything else you need."

She shook her head, "No, that'll be fine." She glanced at her watch and saw that she had approximately five minutes until the briefing began, "Actually, have Mai-Ling bring me a sparkling water please, and I'll see you shortly." With a nod of her head she dismissed him, but as he headed for the door she called him back.

"Michael?" She said gently, "Is Connie alright? You didn't say."

He nodded, "She's fine, Mrs Logan." He smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes, and Martha felt most unconvinced, "She's very excited to be in the thick of things."

She rose from her chair and moved to his side to place her hand lightly on his arm, "How many times must I say it? It's Martha." She saw him go to argue but she quickly silenced him, "Protocol counts for nothing if no one's listening."

He smiled again, more naturally this time and she found herself reminded of their times together at Harvard when that smile had been all it had taken for him to woo her into his bed. Good times, and yet, she quickly brushed them aside. Things were different now, she had Aaron and he had Connie, and one or two other lovers besides. They were the American President and Her Chief of Staff, nothing more.

As a distraction she turned her attention back to the conversation at hand, "You're worried about her."

He shrugged, "It's a new world to her Martha, I'm not sure she'll cope."

He was being unduly pessimistic. In the 18 months that Martha had know Connie it had become obvious to her that here was a woman who could cope with pretty much anything, although, that said, these were exceptional circumstances. She squeezed his arms gently, supportively.

"I'm sure she'll be fine."

He sighed, "I just don't want her to fail." He said, and then left the room, leaving Martha to ponder how a man, who loved a woman so much, could repeatedly treat the same woman so badly.

Then again, wasn't that precisely what Charles had done to her, albeit on a far larger scale than with lovers on the side?

Looking at that level of betrayal, Michael was an absolute angel.

---

**05.27am**

With Connie having done away with all need for a by the book in-house briefing it didn't take long for Jack, Bill and the ever charming Chloe to bring her up to speed, and she soon knew exactly what they required. After tying up the final details;

"Hazmat suit?"  
"Waiting for you in Medical."

And,

"Results wanted when?"  
"Yesterday."

She saw them all waiting for her to leave, but, having spied some very interesting looking handwritten notes in Chloe's notepad she'd already decided she was going nowhere.

"Was there anything else Connie?" Jack asked when it became apparent she wasn't moving.

She shook her head. "No, not at all. I just couldn't help noticing that you have a conference link up with Washington shortly. If it's not a problem I'd like to be in on that."

Before Jack could respond, Chloe was already cutting in, "Only Department Heads are involved in that Briefing."

"I'm the Head of Medical." Connie responded coolly, having already decided not to let the stupid woman rile her, "Does that not make me a Head of Department?"

"No. It makes you a glorified nurse."

Bored already with constant sniping from a woman who was clearly as bitchy as Chrissie Williams with about a hundredth of the sex appeal Connie decided to appeal to Jack's better nature, not least because he seemed to be inclined to meet her halfway.

"I'd really appreciate being in on this." She told him as she unclipped her security pass, "And if you're in any doubt about my credentials," she handed it to him, "you will note I have…"

"Level 6 clearance." Jack said, turning the pass over to Bill for his inspection, "What do you think Bill?"

Bill stared down at the pass, saying nothing, possibly, Connie suspected, because he was astounded that Jack was looking for him for guidance rather than just doing whatever he wanted. She already got the impression it didn't really happen that often. She decided, since they'd wasted more than enough time already, to help him out a little.

"If you're still unsure you could always call The White House," she couldn't resist a small self satisfied smirk, "I'm sure The President's Chief of Staff would be happy to approve my attendance. You only have to ask."

---

Jack groaned inwardly. With this one on board, one way or another, it was going to be a long hard day.

--- 

Meanwhile in The White House Communications Room, the Chief of Staff himself was talking to Homeland Security and Military Officials and wondering, not for the first time, exactly how he'd landed this gig. It was, after all, a long way from UK Local Government to this, and it didn't seem to matter how often Martha told him that he was just the man for the job – dynamic, charismatic and with the ability to spin a good story – he still couldn't help thinking, quite immodestly in some ways, that she only wanted him around for reasons pertaining to his being nice eye-candy, and he found it disconcerting, especially now, when he found himself in conversation with people with more experience, knowledge and bravery medals than he'd had hot dinners.

He was distracted from his conversation by Karen, an attractive blonde whose job title he could never really remember although as he recalled, vaguely, she was one of the Homeland Security crowd. On a more personal level, he got her very drunk on Tequila once but nothing ever came of it because, apparently, she was 'completely devoted to her husband'.

Lucky bastard.

"We're ready to start Michael. Is Mrs Logan on her way?"

He nodded, "She said she'd be right along."

"Excellent." Karen went to walk away but then turned back, "Bill Buchanan from CTU just put a call in. Do you have any issue with their Medical Officer sitting in?"

He grinned at her words, glad that Connie appeared to have recovered from her earlier shock and was already ruffling feathers. That was the girl he knew and loved, he wouldn't want her doing anything less.

"Sure thing Karen, not an issue."

She looked surprised, "You don't want to check with Mrs Logan?"

He shook his head, "Martha won't mind at all."

---

**05.31am**

Connie was sat going through some briefing notes when Jack sidled up to her, just as the room to fill up, "Ok, you've got clearance."

She smiled, "You do surprise me."

He rolled his eyes at her but said no more, as Bill rose from his seat at the front of the room and everyone around the table fell respectfully silent, as TV screens at one end of the room flickered into life, showing a similar set up on the other side of the Country in Washington. There was a few moments of mumbled chatter at the other end and then Bill spoke.

"Good morning Madam President, this is Bill Buchanan. You're linked up with the CTU Los Angeles."

Connie craned her neck slightly so she could see one of the TV screens more clearly, smiling slightly as she saw Michael, looking particularly grim as he sat at the President's side.

He looked so sexy when he was being serious.

"Good morning Bill." The President said, breaking into her particularly kinky thoughts, "First off, I want to thank you for moving so quickly on this, but obviously we've got a lot of work still to do. For the benefit of all, could you provide us with a brief summation of events to date." 

"Certainly." Bill cleared his throat nervously, "At 4.15am PST this morning, we were notified by an anonymous source that a body at been 'dropped' at an address in Georgetown. This body has been infected by source or sources unknown but it's clear even at this stage that we're dealing with a serious viral infection, the likes of which we've never seen before."

"Has the body been examined?"

"Only superficially. We'll have a full report for you shortly."

The President smiled, but it was clearly strained. Connie had never seen the other woman look so uptight, but then again, she'd never seen her in circumstances like these. Mainly just over gin and tonics in her private quarters at 'The House'.

"Ok Bill, what are the real concerns here?"

"The problem is this. We have a disease we've yet to identify that we have no idea how to control or contain. We also good reason to believe that this body we've been given is little more than a warning."

"A warning?" The President echoed Connie's thoughts, as the true implications of what she was involved in hit home, chilling her once again to the core.

"Yes." Bill sighed, "The call we received. It implied that this was their way of showing us what they can do. It is our belief that this virus is their bargaining chip. We accede to their demands and they give it up, we don't and US citizens will die today."

There was a brief pause and then the President spoke again to ask not only the question on Connie's mind, but, she didn't doubt, that of every one else in the room, "What are their demands Bill?"

Bill grimaced and glanced at Jack who nodded slowly, before turning back to the TV screens,

"That's the point Madam President, at this moment in time, we have absolutely no idea."

**05.34am**

---


	3. Episode 1 5am to 6am Pt3

---

**05.38am**

MC's Autorepairs  
The Valley, Los Angeles

The workshop had seen better days. Once a thriving autoshop, the building was now disused, the machinery it held defunct and rusted.

Iri Bolskov didn't care though. He wasn't there to repair cars.

He reached for the phone. Dialled one of several numbers he'd committed to memory in order to facilitate the events of the day. The phone rang once, and then,

"Yes?" Short, sharp and to the point. He'd have expected nothing less. Today wasn't the day for small talk.

"We're on target. Contact will be made at 6am."

A long silence.

"Are you sure it's not too soon? We don't want to overplay our hand. Are they really going to agree to our request before they've had chance to ID the virus?" 

Iri bristled, not liking having his judgement questioned, especially when he knew he was more than adequately prepared. He'd spent years putting his plans into place. He wasn't about to blow it now.

That said, when he replied, it was calmly, coolly. He wasn't about to let his anger show. That wasn't his way.

"Our insider is in place. The ID will come shortly."

Another long silence. It was clearly intended to intimidate him, but infact was just serving as an irritation.

"And you're sure it'll have the necessary result?"

Iri smiled, "Oh yes. By the time they hear what she has to say, your President will be happy to hand over whatever we want. We'll only have to ask." 

---

**05.40am **

Connie was amazed by how quickly the briefing was over. Back in Holby they'd had longer Board Meetings relating to the selection of scrub suppliers – 10 minutes over a potential National Emergency seemed somewhat surreal.

Never the less, after 10 minutes, the meeting did break up, as everyone started to file out of the room, all nonplussed, so sure of themselves and their duties. She couldn't help feeling slightly out of her depth. It was a new feeling for her and she wasn't sure she liked it.

As she gathered her paperwork she found Jack at her side.

"We need to get you to Medical." He said, a real tone of urgency in his voice, the triple espresso clearly having had the desired effect. He was obviously completely psyched.

It was a very attractive trait.

She smiled at him, "Fine. I'll head down there and report back as soon as I have something."

He shook his head, "I'm coming with you."

"You don't have a job of your own to do?" She asked, part pleased, part surprised, part put out. The prospect of having someone breathing over her shoulder as she worked was not one she relished, even if it was someone with a physique best described as godlike.

Jack shrugged, "It's my job to follow up leads. And right now, this body is the only lead we've got."

---

Back in Washington, Michael was in the Communications Room, giving out some instructions, when Karen, the tequila swigging blonde, approached him, a concerned look on her face.

"Michael? Do you have a minute?"

He consulted his watch, "Literally so. Martha," he saw the surprised look on her face, realised his mistake and corrected himself, "Mrs Logan wants me in her office at 8.45 to discuss possible scenarios."

Karen sighed, "She wants to second guess these terrorists? Is there any point? They've given us nothing so far."

He shrugged, knowing there was little point of arguing since she had something of a point, instead, he figured, it was best just to pull rank on Martha's behalf, "Do you want to argue with the Leader of the Free World Karen? Besides which," he added, "we have to discuss something, and watercooler talk about last night's episode of Lost doesn't feel very appropriate." He saw her shock at his words and realised, not for the first time, that flippancy didn't go down well in serious situations, thus quickly brushed over it, "You wanted to speak to me?"

"Yes. I've just put two and two together," she nodded in the direction of the now fuzzy TV screens, "the Medical Officer in Los Angeles. She's your wife?"

Michael was suddenly on his guard, awaiting calls of foul play. He'd spent years defending his every decision as far as Connie's career went, and it annoyed him greatly. What people so frequently failed to realise was that she was perfectly capable of achieving everything she did on her own merits – nepotism didn't actually come into it.

To his surprise though, the expected criticism never came. Instead Karen lay a supportive hand on his shoulder,

"She'll be fine you know. I know its hard when they're on the front line but trust me, they look after their own at CTU."

He found himself looking at her like she had two heads, as nothing she said seemed to make any sense.

"What do you mean?"

She sighed, "I worry constantly about Bill, but more at times like this."

He dropped his gaze to her wedding ring, putting the pieces together – the husband she was devoted to, the CTU Director who had taken the briefing just minutes before. Suddenly it all became clear.

"Bill Buchanan's your husband?"

She nodded but gave him precious few seconds before she moved on from that and gave him something even bigger to consider.

"It's never far from my mind that CTU has been attacked twice by terrorists. Nor that their in-service body count outnumbers that of any other government agency. I can't help wondering if this will be the time I lose him, but hard as it is I have to stay focused, I have a job to do here." She squeezed his arm supportively, "And so do you. Anyway," she smiled weakly, "your minute must be long up. You should go."

He smiled back at her numbly, and then did precisely that, heading toward the Oval Office, her words echoing in his head and freezing his heart.

It had never occurred to him before that Connie's 'fabulous new life' might put her in danger.

And now it had, he didn't like it one bit.

---

It had come of something of a relief to Martha when she returned to the Oval office after the briefing to find her fiancé there waiting for her. It meant that once the door closed behind her and she was safe in his arms she could be his lover, and for a few small moments stop being the President of the United States of America.

Aaron was, as ever, her brick, having guided her to the sofa, and held her, before, very gently pushing her back into Presidential mode, albeit surrounded by his love and support.

She appreciated it, because much as she wanted to, becoming a nervous wreak really wasn't an option.

Talk between them turned to the briefing and then to the terrorist's possible demands; She started on the 'what if's' but Aaron quickly silenced her.

"I don't see as how it's relevant. Remember Martha," he said gently, stroking her hair, "We don't negotiate with terrorists. It's policy." 

She laughed bitterly, "It was policy during Charles' presidency but it didn't stop us doing it then."

At the mention of her ex-husband she couldn't help noticing Aaron looked pained, but, she also noted, he quickly hid it for her sake, just like always.

"With respect Martha, Charles did a lot of things as President that you never would."

It was true. Her husband hadn't just negotiated with terrorists, technically he'd been one himself. Not that history would ever record him as such. 

She sighed, "I just don't know if I'm up to this Aaron." And she didn't. She'd never regretted running for office, and relished the challenges that her post brought, but the threat of such serious terrorist attack was too much, a challenge too far, and one that brought back too many bad memories as that.

Aaron though was there to lift her, "Well, you see, Madam President, "He pulled her into his arms and kissed her on the forehead, with a gentleness that belied his strength and size, and smiled, "your people think you are, that's why they voted for you. Now you have to do your best for them, and I have every faith that you will."

Reassured by his belief in her, as much as the words themselves Martha smiled, "My darling Aaron, what would I do without you?"

Their lips met, leaving any kind of answer un-required.

Seconds later there was a knock at the door and before they could pull apart, Michael flew into the room.

"Martha, I'm sorry I'm late." His words died on his lips as he took in the scene in front of him, "Ah, I'm sorry. I'll come back."

Martha pulled away from Aaron still smiling, "No, not at all Michael. Come in, sit down. We've got things to talk about."

---

**05.47am**

Connie hated Hazmat suits. It was the one bugbear of her new life. She knew they served a purpose, an important purpose, i.e. keeping her alive, but they were also big and bulky and made a laborious process of pretty much any task.

God she missed scrubs. And little paisley scrub caps.

She lumbered into the isolation room, very aware of Jack watching her through a glass panel in the wall, looking oh so fucking chic in his T-shirt and jeans combo while she resembled some kind of astronaut.

"Suits you." She heard him say, through an earpiece in the suit. She smiled. At least the technology was impressive, even if stylistically they were a bit of a nightmare. 

She approached the body which someone had considerately laid out on a table in the centre of the room.

"Female, Caucasian, aged 20 – 30 years." She glanced at Jack through the glass, "Are you taking notes?"

He nodded toward a small black box on the ceiling, "High grade transmitter, picking up everything you say and recording it for future information. Satisfied?"

She bit back a comment about not being yet but possibly being so later if he was up to it. Now wasn't the time or the place. Especially not in light of the high grade transmitter and the husband who would in all likelihood read the transcripts.

"Completely." She reached for the woman's arm and examined it, "Decay consistent with death having occurred 2 to 4 days ago." She paused. "That can't be right. This body didn't look like this an hour ago."

"I know." Jack murmured. He'd seen the photographs too.

"So," Connie said, a feeling of dread mounting in her as she realised this was all looking just a little bit too familiar, "Body in advanced state of decay, inconsistent with time of death as established in situ." She abandoned any kind of procedure and moved along the body to prise open the jaw, "Mouth would appear to be coated with a tar like substance."

"Tar?" She heard Jack's question, but didn't answer it. She was already onto her next task, looking for the next confirmation that, in actual fact, she already knew what she was dealing with.

She reached for the body, turned it over, and in spite of the decay a deep purple rash was still prevalent across the lower back. She looked up at Jack.

"We can't treat this."

"Can't?! What do you mean can't?"

Can't clearly wasn't a word in his vocabulary and yet, in this situation, she knew he had no choice but to accept it.

"I mean there is no cure." She looked him square in the eyes, the feeling of dread that had been with her from the moment she opened her eyes that morning threatening to consume her, "And if there is, 10 years of government investigation hasn't found it."

---

Karen was glad when the message came through that she was wanted in the Oval Office. Worrying about Bill was hard enough when she was busy, and in spite of what was happening, she wasn't busy, none of them were – they were just treading water, waiting for a call or a development that seemed in no hurry to come.

She was less glad when her arrival saw her thrust into the middle of a debate between Michael and Aaron Pierce.

Michael was waxing lyrical when she entered, giving his views in that stuffed English shirt way that she'd found so attractive when he'd first joined the team. In this situation however, in this scenario it just sounded ridiculous, which was unfortunate, since it soon became clear that he was looking to her for support.

"I just don't think we should rule anything out at this stage. Maybe talking to them just what the situation needs, don't you think Karen?"

She made to respond with the negative but Aaron didn't give her chance, before he came back with a response of his own.

"I think that's the last thing this situation needs, and I'm sure Martha would agree with me."

Michael rolled his eyes, "As Martha's Chief of Staff I'd rather be having this discussion directly with her. Now," he sighed, "as the First Husband to be, don't you have something more important to be doing? Like picking out china patterns?"

Karen looked at Michael, stunned at his attitude towards Aaron who, in spite of the 'First Husband' tag was considered to be a vital part of the Logan administration, offering strength and support to the President that no one else could. She waited for Mrs Logan to intercede but nothing came – obviously she felt Aaron could fight his own battles.

Which he then proved he could.

"Mr Beauchamp," he said, in his low understated Texan drawl, "I respect your position, and your authority and the loyalty you show to Martha, but as a Secret Service Agent I have served and protected 4 former Presidents, including the first African American to hold office. I've seen and experienced acts of terrorism that you could never comprehend, I've watched good men die, and bad men get away with it. This administration does not negotiate with terrorists for a reason, and the sooner you accept that fact, the better."

To Michael's credit, Karen noted, he obviously knew when he was beaten, falling silent in the face of Aaron's stirring speech, and not accepting any right to reply. 

The room fell into an awkward silence, only broken by the ringing of Michael's mobile phone. Karen watched as he glanced at The President, very much the chastened little boy, "May I?"

She nodded, and he stepped into the hall to answer it.

--- 

"Michael Beauchamp."

"Michael? It's Sabine."

He pulled a face. Talk about ways to make a bad day worse. Sabine was one little problem he'd hoped he'd got rid of when he left a message on her office voicemail earlier in the day. 

"Ah, Sabine." He forced some warmth into his voice. As much as an irritant as she was, she was one of those people it paid to stay on the right side of, "Did you get my message?" He crossed his fingers hopefully.

"Absolutely. Why else would I be calling?" A beat, and then, "It's unacceptable Michael, this meeting has been pencilled in for weeks. We can't cancel."

He sighed, rueing the day he'd ever got involved with the ambitious Depart of Defence Official. "Sabine, really, it's not a good time. I can't get out of the 'house today. Have your Assistant call mine; we'll get something teed up for next week."

Or next month – or next year...

She laughed, that really irritating tinkling laugh that he's initially found rather sexy.

"No need Michael. You can't come to me, I'll come to you. I should be with you in about an hour. Can you arrange clearance?"

He groaned inwardly, knowing that the last thing he needed in the middle of this major crisis was an uninvited guest. He was just debating how to put her off when she spoke again.

"Shall we try this another way? You WILL arrange clearance. I'll see you at 10. Goodbye Michael." There was a click, and then she was gone.

It really wasn't shaping up to be his day.

---

**05.56am**

"Bill, we need to speak with you immediately." Jack said, as he led Connie into the other man's office. Hearing the obvious urgency in his voice Bill looked up,

"What is it Jack?"

Jack pushed Connie forward, "Go on, tell him."

Connie took a seat and then began her story, "Before I came to LA, I was working at a military hospital in Maryland, you were probably already aware of that fact."

Bill nodded, indicating that he was, and Connie continued.

"When I was first posted there, I asked permission to bring one of my staff members from back home on board, a research assistant." She smiled faintly, "He's an interesting character. Would no doubt get on very well with your Miss O'Brian. However he's very good at what he does, and I was pleased when my request was given the go ahead. He became an invaluable member of my team."

Jack said nothing, having heard the story once and knowing that the background was relevant but Bill was more impatient, "Go on."

"In May last year, a soldier back from Iraq was brought to my unit suffering from an unidentified virus. With Mr Lund's assistance we were able to ascertain the nature of the virus and said soldier made a full recovery. But before we made a diagnosis Mr Lund undertook a lot of research, and for a period he was linking the virus our man had with one contracted by American troops in Bosnia in the 90's."

"The same virus the today's body is infected with?" Bill asked, second guessing what would come next.

Connie nodded, "At the time Mr Lund accessed a highly classified military document concerning the incident." She paused hesitantly, "And please don't ask me how he managed it. I chose not to ask." She noticed Jack smile at her encouragingly and so moved swiftly on without dwelling on Reg Lund's somewhat suspect methods, "It confirmed that an entire Battalion was wiped out by it, and biological warfare was suspected but never proved."

"Did the document give any further information?" Bill again, sounding increasingly desperate, but the response got was of little comfort.

"A sample of the virus was retrieved by the Government, the intention being to try and create a vaccine so that in the event of a wider spread attack, the virus could be contained." She took a deep breath, "At the time I saw that document, no method of vaccine had been established, and the American Government were crossing their fingers and just hoping this day would never come..."

---

**05.58am**

Chloe sat staring up at Bill Buchanan's office wondering exactly what she was missing out on. She could see Jack and Connie inside, their grim faces, and she didn't like it one bit – not least because she wasn't part of it.

She'd always been part of Jack's inner circle, and now, it appeared that in the face of a medical doctor with a nice pair of legs she'd been cast aside.

It hurt. Not personally, but professionally. Well maybe a little bit personally, but she wasn't going to let that show.

She was distracted from her mood by her phone ringing, but even as she reached for it, her eyes were still on her. The bitch.

"O'Brian."

Silence, and then, eventually, an Eastern European accent… Serbian maybe. 

"I'd like to speak with Jack Bauer."

Past experience told her to be immediately on her guard. She held her hand over the receiver and called to a near by techie to put a trace on her phone, then removed her hand and spoke.

"May I ask who's calling?"

Another long silence and then, "I think you know."

In seconds she was on her feet, dashing hurriedly up the stairs to Bill's office. She burst through the door without knocking.

Connie was mid sentence but Chloe didn't think twice about interrupting. What she had to say was far more important.

"Jack. I've got the target on line. He wants to talk to you."

Suddenly, he only had eyes for her.

One – Nil to the IT geek.

---

Jack sprinted down the stairs, Chloe, Bill and Connie in tow and hastily snatched up the phone.

"Who are you? Do I know you?"

At the other end of the line there was a brief chuckling, "No, but I know you and I know you have contacts. I know you can get me precisely what I want."

Jack's entire body stiffened, serve and protect at the forefront of his mind, "I'll get you nothing at all you son of a bitch."

More chuckling and then, "Oh, I'm sure you will. This is an easy one, all I want is an 'in'. I want is to speak with your President."

**05.59.58am  
05.59.59am  
06.00.00am**


End file.
